Feast or Famine?
by jzhanfan
Summary: A short story set near the end of the flight to Bespin. The food's running out and the Falcon's crew is coping as best they can. An sidetrack from Three Long Weeks that grew into its own story.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: **This is another on-the-way-to-Bespin story that absolutely refused to be shoehorned into Three Long Weeks. For those of you who have read that story, and begged for more, there **will ** be more. I swear. And in the meantine, I hope the vignettes that don't fit together are as entertaining on their own as the larger story has been._

**One**

Han Solo sat on a stool in the _Falcon's _galley and glared at the computer display on the wall. He'd been querying the culinary program in vain for nearly a half hour now. It kept coming up with the same answer... or rather, the same non-answer. The inventory of fresh food and staples in the hold had nearly been depleted.

Their predicted arrival in the Bespin system was still three days away. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't come up with a menu plan for the next three days that didn't involve a lot of ration bars.

They'd managed to stretch the food much longer than he'd expected, and he'd nearly begun to believe it might last the trip after all. But there was no arguing with the facts: two humans ate more than one did

It wasn't that he begrudged the Princess her share of the food. Not even on her worst day, he didn't hate her enough to wish she'd starve. She was here, after all, because he hadn't been able to leave without checking on her before they left Echo Base.

No one was in danger of starving, anyway. There were more than enough rations in the hold to last them three days, enough to get them all to the rendezvous if it turned out there wasn't time to restock in Bespin.

Complete and total failure of the hyperdrive definitely qualified as a genuine emergency, one they'd have had to deal with even without the Princess on board. At sublight, he and Chewie might well have used up all the fresh food, anyway, before they made it to Tatooine.

He knew it wasn't rational. It was just that the mere idea of tapping into the emergency provisions gave him a sour feeling, right in his gut.

He hated to arrive in need of supplies. It wasn't as if he or Chewie could go food shopping in Mos Eisley - not without being recognized. And that would shoot the hell out of Plan A, which was to hole up somewhere in the desert and stake out Jabba's place until he came up with a better plan.

There was nothing for it, though. They'd just have to wing it.

Right now he had a choice to make, and it was a choice that he and Chewie would have customarily made together. Han didn't have much doubt what the Wookie's opinion would be, but he still felt he should observe the tradition. In fact, since there were three on board...

Hmmm... Han scratched his jaw idly as he considered the situation.

Technically, she wasn't actually part of the crew. But she wasn't quite a passenger either. He thought it over and decided that it didn't matter what her status was - de facto crew member, unscheduled passenger, invited guest, stowaway - this was a decision that would affect them all, and she should be consulted.

Tradition, he told himself, could be interpreted to require a unanimous vote in this situation. It was time for a staff meeting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

See-Threepio was assigned the task of locating Chewie and the Princess and informing them that their presence was requested in the galley at 1400. They showed up as ordered – Leia looking worried and the Wookiee giving the Captain a knowing grin.

"All right, let's get right to business," Han began, crisply. "I've called you here today for a vote." Leia's eyebrows shot up at his official tone, quite unexpected after weeks of casual camaraderie. The Wookiee, who'd been leaning against the open hatchway, unfolded one of his arms and extended a paw, thumb up, in front of him. Han gave him a level stare. "I'm not done."

Unfazed by the Captain's subtle dig, Chewie shrugged and went back to parade rest. Han directed his words to Leia, whose eyes were darting between him and his co-pilot in a dangerous way that suggested he'd better make this quick.

"As of this morning, the galley computer has confirmed that the fresh food we have left in stock won't last us to Bespin. No worries, there are plenty of packaged rations in the hold and no one's in danger of starving. But," he raised a finger, "we've got two options. We could try to stretch it another couple of days and eat a little of what we have left along with the packaged stuff every day till we get there."

"Or?" Leia had her arms folded across her chest, now, and her eyes were bright with amusement.

"Or," he said, "we can do what Chewie and I usually do when we get to this point." A corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked grin.

"Which is?"

"Which is, we cook up everything that's left and have one last feast before we tighten our belts and live on nothing but rations for three days."

Even if she hadn't understood the single word in Shriiwook, Chewie's roar of ["Feast!"] would have left no doubt what his preference was.

"Well, Princess?"

"Me? You want me to decide? Don't you already have a majority?"

"I know what Chewie and I would do if it was just us. But it affects you too. So this vote has to be unanimous. It's part of the tradition."

"Tradition?" Her eyebrows arched. "You're saying this sort of thing happens to you two often?"

_Ooops. Had that one coming, didn't you, Solo? _"Often enough," he allowed.

"What would you cook?" she asked, suspiciously.

"No can tell. But I promise it'll be worth eating rations for three days."

Laughing, she conceded. "You win, flyboy. Feast it is."

Chewie roared his pleasure at her decision and patted her back with a shaggy paw.

Han felt the grin spreading across his face as he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the corridor. "Out of the galley, then, the both of you. I'll call you when it's ready."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Sorry I've been slow to update this story, Darth Real Life has had me captive lately. Thanks to my beta reader AmaraZ for her excellent suggestions about this and later chapters and for nudging me to get moving again. As a reward for your patience, you get an extra long chapter this time :-) _

**Three**

Dinner was a feast, indeed. Although he'd had to improvise on some of the ingredients, given what remained of the fresh food supply, Han had nonetheless produced a wide variety of dishes, which he'd spread out, buffet style, on the counter in the galley.

The Princess sniffed each plate cautiously. Chewbacca, regaling her this afternoon with memories of previous end-of-the-trip feasts that he and the Captain had shared, had led her to expect the meal to feature a collection of unidentifiable ingredients covered in hot sauce, and she'd arrived in the galley prepared to politely decline most of the choices

However, Solo was well aware of her refined palate, and had taken care to devise a menu for tonight that left the main dishes relatively mild, while providing a variety of spicy sauces and other toppings that could be dispensed to suit each diner's preference. Not only that, he'd managed to produce a reasonable facsimile of miasra sauce to go with the trimpian, and he waited anxiously to see the Princess's reaction to what he knew was one of her favorite dishes.

Lifting the lid on the trimpian, Leia smiled delightedly. Maneuvering a large serving onto her plate, she looked up and caught the Captain's eye. He hadn't begun to serve himself yet – instead he stood in the corner of the galley, basking in their enjoyment of the meal he'd prepared. Their eyes met, and he raised an eyebrow in query. Smiling, she nodded at him, approvingly. _You have your moments, Solo. Not many, but you do have them. _

At first glance, the Wookiee had been disappointed in the meal, but as he circled the table, he was reassured by the presence of several steaming bowls with the unmistakable aromas of chyntuck and tigmary. He turned to give Solo a thumbs-up of approval, and was in time to observe a slow, satisfied smile spread across Han's face. He was watching the Princess fill her plate, and his obvious pleasure at her approval amused the Wookiee, who chuckled softly to himself, remembering his own attempts at cooking to impress Mallatobuck so many years ago.

The Captain had saved the best surprise for last. When their plates were loaded and they were all seated around the table in the lounge, he produced a bottle of fine Alderaani wine from the small stash that he'd had set aside for some time. He'd spotted the label by chance at a stall in a disreputable marketplace on Nothar and bought three bottles on a whim, thinking maybe he'd give one to Leia for her birthday.

It was unlikely he'd be around for her birthday now, so why not?

Several reasons "why not" soon became apparent.

At the sight of the famed label of the Organa Vinerium, she'd pressed her hand to her mouth and her eyes had glistened with unshed tears.

That wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for, and Han's heart sank. He'd simply wanted to give her a special treat and add to the festive mood of the evening. He hadn't guessed it would make her cry. The look his copilot shot him across the table did nothing to improve his disposition. He heard the unspoken reproach in the Wookiee's heavy sigh. _Good move, Solo. Remind her of her lost planet. _

The Princess recovered quickly, though, lifting her chin and blinking away any trace of tears. Smiling, she held out her glass to Han in invitation. "Would you do the honors, Captain?" Nodding, he poured her drink and filled the other two glasses, irrationally pleased at her composure.

Bringing her glass in close, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "Oh, I can't believe it," she breathed. The smile of pure joy that spread across her face at the scent was enough to make Han light-headed, even before he'd taken a single swallow of his own wine. When she opened her eyes to gaze directly at him, her pupils were very large, making her brown eyes even darker than usual in her small face. "This is wonderful. Thank you, Han."

"You're welcome, Princess." He swallowed hard, and leaned across the table to touch his glass to hers. Chewie lifted his own glass, in two hairy fingers, to join theirs. "To Her Highness," Han offered, his voice suddenly thick with emotion.

"To Alderaan," she whispered in response, and the Wookiee echoed both toasts.

["To Alderaan! To the Princess!"]

Leia lowered her eyes and a faint blush appeared on her pale cheeks. And then she tipped back her head and drained her drink in a single swallow. Han and Chewie exchanged a surprised look as she held out her empty glass for a refill. The Wookiee shrugged and granted her a second serving, half as full as the first.

She polished off that second glass of wine as she ate, and Han tentatively poured her a third, which left her giddy, laughing at all of Chewie's jokes. Even the ones that weren't funny.

He began to wonder if giving her booze was a wise plan after all.

Han hadn't exactly forgotten that long-ago night on Yavin IV, when he'd found her drowning her sorrows in a bottle of whiskey while the rest of the base celebrated the Death Star's destruction. But he'd rarely seen her indulge in more than a few sips of any sort of liquor since then, and it hadn't occurred to him that her reasons might have as much to do with avoiding temptation as they did with maintaining a sense of propriety.

In an attempt to discourage her from further refills, he made an excuse to slip into the galley after he'd poured himself and Chewie each a full second glass, and casually deposited the bottle on the table across the lounge as he departed. But when he came back to the lounge, he saw that she'd risen to collect another glass for herself while he was gone. He told himself quite firmly to let it go.

Then she returned to the table, eschewed the chair she'd taken earlier, and plopped down sideways on the bench next to him, stretching her legs out beside her. It seemed perfectly natural for him to wrap an arm around her, and for her to tuck her head into the hollow of his shoulder. And he decided that maybe what she needed was more booze, not less, if this was the result.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Such a long chapter, in fact, that I split it in two. :-) enjoy. thanks to my super beta, there will be more to come, soon. thanks for your patience and reviews. (hint hint)_

**Four**

Chewie, who had been patiently answering Leia's questions about his family back on Kashyyyk, paused in mid-sentence to stare pointedly at Han's palm, where it had settled on Leia's waist, but made no comment.

The Wookiee picked up the story as if there'd been no interruption, but he hadn't missed the shift in mood between his companions. Clearly it was time for him to make a discreet exit. He knew when he wasn't needed anymore.

Finding his glass empty again, Han disentangled himself from the Princess and gathered her drink up with his own. "Another round for everyone?" he asked, cheerfully, reaching for the Wookiee's glass as well.

Chewie kept his drink firmly in his paw and shook his head. ["No more for me. I've had enough. You two go on"]. There was amusement in his blue eyes as he added, with a casual sniff of the air, ["Someone should go take over for Threepio in the cockpit soon anyway."]

Han knew exactly what the Wookiee was doing and he felt his neck growing warm with embarrassment. Was it that obvious how much he was enjoying her company? Even if it had been brought on by the wine, her bubbly enthusiasm and her laughter were impossible to resist, and there was no harm in having a good time.

"Knock yourself out," Solo muttered, covering up his own discomfort by sloshing a good amount of wine into his own glass and Leia's. "More wine for us." He settled back onto the bench and dropped his arm firmly around her shoulders.

She took her glass from his other hand and snuggled closer. Lifting her glass to clink it against Han's, she laughed merrily, "More wine for us. I'll drink to that!"

["That's not a proper toast,"] Chewie argued. ["You can't drink to drinking."]

"Why not?" asked the Princess, pretending to sulk.

"To the _Falcon_, then," Han proposed carelessly.

"The _Falcon?"_Leia considered this solemnly. "You know, I think we should drink to her," she decided, lifting her glass again. "She may be a bucket of bolts, but without the _Falcon_, I'd probably be in a pile of ice right now."

"'scuse me?" Solo gave a snort of laughter, lowered his glass and stared at her, incredulous. "Did I just hear you say something nice,about the _Falcon_?"

["I heard her call the _Falcon _a piece of junk,"] Chewie pointed out, sitting back and folding his arms in mock indignation on the ship's behalf.

"No, no, th'other part," Han drawled. Grinning down at Leia, he teased her, "C'mon your Holiness, admit it. I think we're growing on you." He gave her an affectionate squeeze, half-expecting to get shoved away.

Instead, the Princess tipped her head back against his chest and smiled at him, upside down. "Don't get cocky, Flyboy. It's the _Falcon _who's growing on me, not you."

There was a guffaw of laughter from the Wookiee, who lifted his glass, amused, and offered a renewed toast. ["To the _Falcon, _then?"]

"To the _Falcon,_" Han agreed solemnly, and then with a knowing wink at Leia, added, "and ladies who grow on you."

She grinned at him and touched his glass, and Chewie's, with her own. "To the _Falcon,_" she echoed, carefully ignoring the rest of his toast, and the flush that had risen to her cheeks at his words.

The Wookiee added his glass to the salute, but only touched it to his lips, before setting it down on the table. ["I really am going up front now."] Slapping Han heartily on the shoulder, he chuckled. ["You two behave yourselves."]

"Always do," Han quipped, and he and the Wookiee glanced automatically at Leia, both expecting her to jump on this obvious opening to tease him.

Instead she raised her glass. "To behaving ourselves."

Chewie flashed his Captain an amused look and Han touched his glass to the Princess's. "To behaving ourselves."

"G'night, Chewie!" Laughing, she blew the Wookiee a kiss, which Chewie pretended to catch as he departed.

Han held his own drink at half mast, suddenly silent.

She was giggling.

Leia Organa didn't giggle.

"What's wrong, Captain?" she asked, pulling a face to mock his own serious one. Her smile was contagious and he found himself lifting his glass to his lips after all.

"Nothin's wrong," he said, giving her his most winning smile. "Nothin' wrong at all. What more could a man ask for? A glass of wine in my hand and a pretty girl beside me."

He drew her more firmly into the curve of his body and she dipped her head to rub her cheek against the softness of his shirt.

"Nothing wrong at all," she echoed.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a moment of awkward silence when they both realized Chewie was really gone, and they were actually… alone. Han hastily offered to locate a holo vid for them to watch, but Leia demurred. "I'd rather talk, if you don't mind."

And he discovered that, to his surprise, he didn't mind at all. Usually, talking about himself was the last thing Solo wanted to do, but she seemed genuinely interested and he found himself caught up in an unexpected wave of nostalgia. For a long while they sat together in quiet contentment, sipping at their wine and listening to the music Han had chosen for the feast playing softy in the background as they spoke.

He laughed along with her as he recounted adventures he hadn't thought about in years.

She reminisced about her home and her upbringing on Alderaan, savoring the happy memories for once instead of awakening the familiar pangs of sadness and loss.

Soon Han retrieved the second bottle of wine from the galley, slipping it casually onto the table to replace the empty one without comment. She never actually asked for more, but he noticed she didn't refuse, either, when he topped off her glass along with his own.

He knew he was drinking too much. But he no longer cared.

Tonight he'd realized how seamlessly she'd slipped into the casual routine of his and Chewie's daily life on the _Falcon _these last few weeks_. _Despite their stormy history, having her here hadn't been nearly as much of a disruption as he'd anticipated.

Maybe it was because they were alone, without the rest of the base as an audience. It wasn't that they didn't argue as much as they ever had. It was simply that the hostility they'd hidden behind for so long had disappeared, leaving behind a grudging respect… a tenuous friendship… and maybe something more.

Was it possible that she'd never been the spoiled "Ice Princess" he'd always thought she was?

There'd been times, especially lately, when he'd caught himself wondering about what might have been, what could have been.

If he'd known sooner that there really was a woman in there - would he have handled things differently? And if he had... would it have mattered?

_Nothing would have mattered, you fool. Jabba'd still be out there. _

It was too late for might-have-beens now. He'd gambled and lost, in more ways than one.

The problem with Jabba was of his own making and he'd take care of it his own way, without dragging anyone down with him.

So what if he had made friends in the Alliance, and started to feel like maybe he belonged? That was all the more reason to get out now, before his presence could hurt the people close to him.

Something cold and dark clenched in his gut whenever he thought about how much worse it could have turned out last month on Ord Mantell. That bounty hunter could have killed Luke or Chewie… or Leia. He'd nearly managed to kill Han. It was a mistake he didn't intend to make again.

She'd assumed the worst when she heard he was leaving, of course, and her reaction had been predictably furious. Things had been extremely tense between them in the days leading up to the evacuation of Hoth and his attempts to set things right hadn't gone all that well.

Then they'd been hurled into a dangerous situation together, and there was no longer any way to hide or ignore their long-suppressed attraction to each other. It was hardly surprising that the result had been that first, passionate kiss down in the circuitry bay.

It hadn't been long before they'd been forced to define the boundaries of the relationship.

She'd been firm about her refusal to settle for a short-term affair, and he'd agreed to respect the limits she'd set. They hadn't talked much about the future, about what – if anything – would happen after Bespin, and he suspected she was as reluctant as he to consider the very real possibility that they might never see each other again.

As long as they didn't talk about it, they could pretend it wasn't going to happen.

The evening's feast, however, brought with it a painful reminder that the trip was coming to an end soon, and the longer he sat here with Leia Organa curled up beside him, her cheek against his chest, her slender fingers toying idly with the buttons of his shirt, the harder it was to contemplate a future without her.


	6. Chapter 6

Maybe it was the way she looked at him when she laughed.

Maybe it was how she kept drawing parallels between their very disparate childhoods and histories, and how he found himself amazed to discover how much they had in common.

Or maybe it was just that tonight, there was a subtle but vital difference in the way she was treating him.

She'd been friendly, even affectionate, with him these last few weeks. But always before, she'd been the one drawing the lines, erecting the walls between them.

Tonight, the lines were blurry and the walls were crumbling.

Tonight he was acutely aware of her scent, of the softness of her body sitting beside his own. He found his gaze drawn to the pulse in her throat when she threw back her head and laughed.

Long strands of dark hair escaped the knot at the nape of her neck, tickling his nose when he inhaled. With careful fingers he smoothed the flyaway wisps, tucking them behind her ear. His hand lingered against her cheek, unwilling to end the contact, and she turned her face to press her lips, very softly, against his palm before tucking her head back into the hollow of his shoulder.

It felt so right.

He knew it was the wine - but it was easy to pretend for a little while, at least, that it was real.

Eventually a moment came when she noticed her glass was empty again and she asked for a refill… and he realized just how little was left in that second bottle of wine.

Common sense and reason forced their way through the fog of alcohol that was clouding his brain and he heard himself say, "You know what? I think we've had enough, Princess."

"I'm a big girl, Captain," she sniffed haughtily, "I think I can decide for myself when I've had enough." She disentangled herself from his arms and rose, unsteadily, to her feet, moving toward the bottle he'd placed on the table across the lounge.

The wobble in her step told him he was right to insist. Quick as a flash, his hand shot out and caught her wrist. "Not on my watch, sweetheart. Bar's closed."

"Let go," she said, through clenched teeth, as she tried to pull away. With his free hand, he slipped her glass from her fingers and held it behind him, out of her reach. "Give it back," she hissed, leaning around him and trying, in vain, to snatch it from his hand.

He held the glass higher, amused at her indignation and secretly enjoying the feel of her body squirming against his. "Easy, your Worship," he laughed. "I thought being held by me wasn't enough to get you excited,"

At this she went unexpectedly still, and without any resistance, his continued tug on her wrist threw her off balance. She stumbled forward and quite suddenly he found himself with a lap full of warm princess.

His mouth went dry and his laughter died in his throat. Her glass fell from his hand and clattered onto the deck, unnoticed.

"It's apparently enough to excite you," she purred against his shoulder, clearly aware of his body's immediate and obvious response to her sudden nearness.

Automatically, his arms closed around her, drawing her in against his chest.

Leia lifted her head, expecting him to reply with another teasing, innuendo-laden remark. Instead she caught her breath at the look of raw hunger she saw in his eyes.

She knew there was a very good reason why they had agreed they weren't going to do this.

But right this minute, with his lips only centimeters from hers, his breath hot against her cheek... she wasn't quite sure anymore what that reason was.

Without a word, he bent his head and kissed her.


	7. Chapter 7

His mouth was soft and liquid against hers**. **

They'd shared several kisses these last few weeks, but this one was different.

There was a new urgency in his touch tonight, an intensity that built slowly and caught her in its wake, drawing her in before she recognized it.

The world spun around her, and Leia didn't know or care whether it came from the wine.. the kiss.. or both. She could only lean back and lose herself in the dizzying rush of pleasure that washed over her.

He tasted of wine and spicy sauces and his hands were firm and strong as he held her against him. She was acutely aware of everything - the solid thump of his heartbeat against her breast, the scratch of his jaw as it brushed her cheek, the slick movement of his tongue along her own - and at the same time, she felt strangely detatched from herself.

It was curiously like watching a scene from a holodrama... like grasping at the fading remains of a dream from which you'd just been awakened.

She inahled deeply through her nostrils, and the scent of him filled her lungs. His presence surrounded her, anchoring her to reality, and she couldn't bear the thought of letting go. Not for a moment.

When he broke off the kiss at last, breathless, he guided her very gently back up to a sitting position, and she clutched at him without opening her eyes.

_Oh, gods, no. Don't leave. _

Pressing her face into the side of his neck, nuzzling at his throat, she was desperate to touch him again, and her trembling fingers found the open placket of his shirt and slid inside, tracing tiny circles in the wispy hairs she found there.

She leaned in and took another long, deep breath, resting her cheek against his sternum, and without planning it, she turned her face and kissed the warm flesh beneath her lips.

He arched his neck, inviting her to continue, and she stretched up in response, kissing her way along the hollow of his throat, tasting the prickly stubble that covered his jaw.

At last her mouth found his again, and this time there was no hestiation, no holding back. Shifting in his arms, she turned so that she was kneeling on the bench, straddling his lap and resting her hands on his shoulders for support, never breaking the kiss.

The tail of her shirt tugged free of her waistband, and for a moment, she felt cool air against the strip of bare skin that was briefly exposed. And then his warm hands slipped into the gap, his thumbs tracing the line of her vertebrae.

His wandering fingers found the bottom edge of her bra and paused there, for what seemed like an eternity, before trailing back down to her waist again and pulling her close. Solid and steady, he anchored her in place.

He was hard and hungry beneath her, and she found herself rocking slowly against the thick shape of his arousal. A strange and delicious warmth began to spread from her aching core all the way to her toes.

For weeks now, she'd been telling herself that getting close to this man was a bad idea. And she'd begun to beleive it.

But right now, all that mattered was how wonderful he made her feel.

He'd kissed her like this once before, in the circuitry bay. That day, she'd been confused and frightened and she'd turned around and fled.

But tonight it felt more right than anything she'd ever known, and she had no intention of running away.


	8. Chapter 8

Reveling in her eager and passionate response, and not daring to question it, Han licked deeper into her mouth, taking full advantage of the new position to slide both hands beneath her shirt, fingers skimming the edges of her bra and moving in time with the rise and fall of her ribs as she breathed.

Someone moaned aloud – had it been him? - and he didn't know quite when - or how - it had happened, but somehow his hands were cupped around the roundness of her backside, drawing her ever tighter against his own growing need.

Han abruptly broke off the kiss, his need for air outweighing any other needs for a moment. But then his mouth was moving with purpose along her jaw and down along her throat, his curious fingers undoing the top two buttons of her shirt, baring her neck and collarbone. With a surreal sense of wonder, he dipped his head even lower to taste her skin with his exploring lips.

The rational, sober part of his brain was waiting for her to protest, to push him away as she always had. Surely she would stop him before he went too far.

Her fingers closed around his, but instead of resisting his touch, she was leading him, willingly, to the rest of her buttons, and soon he was pushing the edges of her shirt aside, leaning in to press his mouth against the flat place between her breasts, tasting the salt of her sweat with his tongue.

The blood that was pounding in his ears very nearly drowned out the voice of reason that hid deep inside his head. The voice was telling him to _stop, stop, stop... _and yet he couldn't make himself let go. This was ___Leia _in his arms_._

She was as soft and as perfect as he'd always known she would be.

Against his cheek, a quivering nipple rose, hard and tightly crinkled, against the satiny fabric of her bra, and there was nothing to do but cover it with his palm. His thumb began to tease the nipple, through the fabric, and she gave a small cry and clutched at him with her knees.

He knew that his touch had sent a tug of desire straight down into her deepest and most secret places, knew her soft folds would be growing slick and wet with need as he slid his hand beneath the lacy edge and caressed her breast.

She'd begun to rock slowly, her hips moving against his lap in a tantalizing rhythm and his body responded automatically, rising and thrusting in time with each breath.

_Yes. Oh, yes. _

She wanted him.

He could feel it. He could taste it in her kiss.

And oh, how he wanted her.

He wanted to slide into her and bury himself in her warmth.

He wanted to take her and make her his.

He wanted… to love her.

There was an unexpected and terrifying strangeness to that word - "love" - and it sent his head whirling in a very disconcerting manner.

_Where did that come from?_

He went very still for a moment and one answer came through, loud and clear: _You are drunk, Solo. And so is she. _

Dismayed at his sudden inactivity, she reached up, took his face in her hands and guided it back to her own. Her mouth was hungry and pleading, and he was drowning in her scent - it was more intoxicating than the wine he tasted on her tongue.

"Han..." her breath was warm against his mouth. "Han, please..."

In that moment, he knew he could have her.

_She wants this. You know she does._

He could pick her up in his arms and carry her to his bunk and bring to life every single one of his fantasies.

_Maybe she does want this right now, but she will hate you for it in the morning._

Instead of cooling his desire, this thought conjured up an extremely vivid mental image of her lying naked in his bunk tomorrow morning. He could see her long hair strewn across his pillow as she slept beside him… Leia Organa, in his bunk, exhausted and spent after a long night of wanton sex.

_That's not helping. Think about Hutts. Think about... logarithms. _

He struggled through the fog of desire, trying to think clearly for just a moment.

He knew what she'd been saying for weeks. And he thought he had a good idea how she really felt, even if she didn't.

But this... this wasn't Leia changing her mind. This was the wine crumbling her already weakening defenses and loosening her inhibitions.

And that was the reason he had to stop. Now.

She swayed in his arms and the voice of reason thundered to be heard over the pounding of his heart.

_She's drunk, and this is not... not... not what she'd want if she was sober. _

Her tongue stroked his and the blood pounded in his ears and he was drowning, being dragged under by the waves roaring over his head.

_She's drunk, Solo. Drunk, drunk, drunk. _

_Does it matter?_

_It does matter, damn it. _

If... when... something happened between them, it had to be her decision.

_You have to stop… stop, stop..._

She wasn't capable of making a decision right now.

_Maybe someday. But not like this. _

The trouble was, Han Solo wasn't entirely sure he was man enough to turn a woman away just because she came to him for the wrong reason.

Especially this woman.

Especially tonight.


End file.
